What do you think?
Rate this book
Light and Thread
In this light-filled and multi-faceted book, her first since being awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, Han Kang draws together the threads of her work and life, tracing the connections between her interior and exterior worlds through a sequence of essays, poems, photographs and diaries.
A book of reflections, of words and light, it has at its heart the tiny, north-facing courtyard garden at her home, cultivated solely through the reflected sunlight of the mirrors which she must move throughout the day, as the earth turns on its axis.
In a poem written at eight years old, Han Kang imagined a ‘gold thread’ of connection – an idea which she explores here with luminous attention, beginning with her Nobel Lecture. She writes of the wonder of following the thread we call language into the depths of other hearts, and her profound sense of an electric current which joins writer and reader.
Both intimate and illuminating, Light and Thread is a book for all readers of Han Kang’s unique body of work.
A book of reflections, of words and light, it has at its heart the tiny, north-facing courtyard garden at her home, cultivated solely through the reflected sunlight of the mirrors which she must move throughout the day, as the earth turns on its axis.
In a poem written at eight years old, Han Kang imagined a ‘gold thread’ of connection – an idea which she explores here with luminous attention, beginning with her Nobel Lecture. She writes of the wonder of following the thread we call language into the depths of other hearts, and her profound sense of an electric current which joins writer and reader.
Both intimate and illuminating, Light and Thread is a book for all readers of Han Kang’s unique body of work.
152 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 18, 2025
About the author
Han Kang
65 books13.8k followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author by this name in the Goodreads database.
Han Kang ( 한강) was born in 1970 in South Korea. She is the author of The Vegetarian, winner of the International Booker Prize, as well as Human Acts, The White Book, Greek Lessons, and We Do Not Part. In 2024, she was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature "for her intense poetic prose that confronts historical traumas and exposes the fragility of human life."
Han Kang ( 한강) was born in 1970 in South Korea. She is the author of The Vegetarian, winner of the International Booker Prize, as well as Human Acts, The White Book, Greek Lessons, and We Do Not Part. In 2024, she was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature "for her intense poetic prose that confronts historical traumas and exposes the fragility of human life."
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 623 reviews
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
i would read anything han kang ever writes.
https://emmareadstoomuch.substack.com...
i loved this lovely insight into that mind and that writing.
her books can feel so varied, and seeing the questions that unify her writing made them even more brilliant in my eyes.
the fact that it concluded with a sweet and bright gardening diary - even better!
bottom line: a small but always interesting read.
(thanks to the publisher for the e-arc)
https://emmareadstoomuch.substack.com...
i loved this lovely insight into that mind and that writing.
her books can feel so varied, and seeing the questions that unify her writing made them even more brilliant in my eyes.
the fact that it concluded with a sweet and bright gardening diary - even better!
bottom line: a small but always interesting read.
(thanks to the publisher for the e-arc)
April 1, 2025
Me lo rileggo altre tre, quattro o venti volte per impararlo a memoria e portarlo sempre con me.
April 19, 2026
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
I just adore anything and everything Han Kang writes!!!
Part memoir, essay, poetry and diary entries, it's always such a joy to get more of an insight into a favourite writers mind! (I truly recommend this mainly as a secondary read after her novels) The first half was astounding and reading the garden diaries in the crux of spring felt like such a singular experience (but wasn't as poignant as the beginning). Will be eagerly waiting for her next novel...
I just adore anything and everything Han Kang writes!!!
Part memoir, essay, poetry and diary entries, it's always such a joy to get more of an insight into a favourite writers mind! (I truly recommend this mainly as a secondary read after her novels) The first half was astounding and reading the garden diaries in the crux of spring felt like such a singular experience (but wasn't as poignant as the beginning). Will be eagerly waiting for her next novel...
August 2, 2026
Through this short book of memoir, poetry and diaries, Han Kang sheds both light and thread on the inner world behind her novels. She seems to carry an immense burden of grief—the sorrow of living in a violent world, and the collective wound of the Gwangju Massacre. I wonder whether some of that burden is also shaped by the fact that her family left Gwangju just four months before the massacre. Perhaps it is a form of survivors’ guilt. I cannot know, but reading this book, I was left with the impression that her calling is to write so that the voices of the dead and the silenced continue to be heard, and so that their suffering is not forgotten. It is little wonder that her novels demand so much of their readers. Few writers can translate pain onto the page with such clarity and force. I felt it acutely while reading We Do Not Part, The Vegetarian and I had to abandon Human Acts because its grief became almost unbearable. That, in itself, speaks to the power of her writing.
The second part of the book, her garden diary, was a gentle contrast. I read it with a much lighter heart, sensing the quiet healing that her garden brings her and I am happy for her.
I would highly recommend this book to anyone who enjoys Han Kang’s work. It gave me a deeper appreciation of both her novels and the person behind them.
The second part of the book, her garden diary, was a gentle contrast. I read it with a much lighter heart, sensing the quiet healing that her garden brings her and I am happy for her.
I would highly recommend this book to anyone who enjoys Han Kang’s work. It gave me a deeper appreciation of both her novels and the person behind them.
October 9, 2025
Raccolti in questo volume di neanche 40 pagine, vi sono: una storia autobiografica su cosa spinge l'autrice a scrivere romanzi e perchè, con vari riferimenti a tutte le sue opere pubblicate e poi un discorso per la premiazione al Nobel per la letteratura. Quindi sarebbe stato meglio leggerlo dopo aver letto tutte le sue opere, ma devo dire che invece mi ha incuriosito ancora di più a leggere i suoi libri che ancora non ho letto ed anche a rileggere quelli già letti, in un tripudio di riflessioni sociali ed umane, come:
Perchè il mondo è così pieno di violenza e dolore?
E come può, allo stesso tempo, essere di tale bellezza?
Perchè il mondo è così pieno di violenza e dolore?
E come può, allo stesso tempo, essere di tale bellezza?
July 15, 2026
A companion piece.
The garden at the back of my apartment faces south. Yours faces north. But these are opposites that ultimately prove identical. When I first moved in, I put a large, black picture-framed mirror that had once hung in a lounge room of the flat I lived in for a decade up on the fence separating my garden from that of my neighbour to the east. It cast its reflected light onto the dwarf lemon tree I had planted but that has never produced any fruit. Unlike the smaller mirrors you shift every quarter-hour, mine stayed in place. Or, at least, it did, until the builders who were recladding the walls of the apartments to remove the inflammable cladding, moved it and, once they’d finished, I worried the frame might eventually rot and the mirror smash.
I don’t believe in bad luck, but I do believe in rotting and in gravity.
My mother was fond of the idea of candles, more than the reality of them. I have no memory of her ever burning a candle in the house. I guess the hint is in the name - candle-less. But she would talk of how she felt there was something special, something nice in Catholics lighting candles in churches in remembrance. When I was in Paris and then a year later in Tallinn, I went with my partner at the time into churches and in both she bought us candles and told me to make a wish as we lit them together and placed them beside each other. I know the physics of burning candles, and how long they are likely to last, by in my mind's eye each of the four candles continue to burn, even if my wish never come true.
In the dream, a white labrador with a black collar found and followed me on one of my walks. I wasn’t sure what I should do, as its following me was taking it away from wherever it lived and I was worried I might make it lost. But I was in a dream kingdom and more likely to get lost than the dream dog. It bounded happily beside and in front of me. Then my older, intellectually disabled sister shouted out from a window, “Hey, put a lead on the dog”. She could always push my buttons, and I always take the bait. I said to her, “Cathy, you know I don’t have a dog.” But why should she know that? Even in the dream, I couldn’t bring myself to remind her she was dead.
When I moved in, I had two friends over for lunch. It was Greek national day and George is Greek, so I made lamb. As he sat outside in the garden smoking, he suggested I use the metal trellis for green beans. I said nothing, because it seemed too involved to explain there is a possum or a rat that eats plants in my garden as I sleep. It is selective. Certain flowers, sage, the tiny green marbles of lemons, but not rosemary. I’ve planted three rosemary plants, but they must need more sun. They forget to grow.
I can see the Southern Cross and the Pointers when I stand on the wooden deck that is the majority of my garden at night. They are lower in the sky in winter than in summer – which is the opposite of what I might have expected. If you draw a line down the longest part of the cross, and another line perpendicular to the Pointers, the arrowhead where these lines intersect points south. Except, I can never make that work. My phone has a compass that tells me where south is, but I can never make the arrowhead drawn in my mind between the stars align with south on my phone.
Instead of string beans, I planted climbing flowers. The image in my head was of the two plants weaving and spreading out across the mesh and then of their white flowers and green leaves mingling. A patchwork of green leaves and white flowers across the wooden fence. But both raced up the wire and over the fence, only to hang into the kindergarten behind my apartment. I am reminded of my ignorance of plants and their obvious in hindsight ways every time I step into my garden.
I’m taking September and half of October off. I’m hoping to start writing a book. The question it is to skirt around is the way we think we know things, but never quite do, despite our certainty. The curious facts of Nietzsche, Marx and Pascal on atheism, Shakespeare's homosexuality, why science and commonsense are enemies. I don’t expect to ever finish the book, although I’ve made a start at planning what I want to say, the topics I want to cover - if cover is the right word. Even before I start, I wonder what will stand in the way of my finishing it.
I can’t think of a golden thread that binds me to others, alive or dead. It is a metaphor that would never have come to me, even when it came to you as a child. But in reading your book, I couldn’t help thinking of how much time you spend alone and how much time I spend alone and in the strange connection those forms of disconnection make between us.
The garden at the back of my apartment faces south. Yours faces north. But these are opposites that ultimately prove identical. When I first moved in, I put a large, black picture-framed mirror that had once hung in a lounge room of the flat I lived in for a decade up on the fence separating my garden from that of my neighbour to the east. It cast its reflected light onto the dwarf lemon tree I had planted but that has never produced any fruit. Unlike the smaller mirrors you shift every quarter-hour, mine stayed in place. Or, at least, it did, until the builders who were recladding the walls of the apartments to remove the inflammable cladding, moved it and, once they’d finished, I worried the frame might eventually rot and the mirror smash.
I don’t believe in bad luck, but I do believe in rotting and in gravity.
My mother was fond of the idea of candles, more than the reality of them. I have no memory of her ever burning a candle in the house. I guess the hint is in the name - candle-less. But she would talk of how she felt there was something special, something nice in Catholics lighting candles in churches in remembrance. When I was in Paris and then a year later in Tallinn, I went with my partner at the time into churches and in both she bought us candles and told me to make a wish as we lit them together and placed them beside each other. I know the physics of burning candles, and how long they are likely to last, by in my mind's eye each of the four candles continue to burn, even if my wish never come true.
In the dream, a white labrador with a black collar found and followed me on one of my walks. I wasn’t sure what I should do, as its following me was taking it away from wherever it lived and I was worried I might make it lost. But I was in a dream kingdom and more likely to get lost than the dream dog. It bounded happily beside and in front of me. Then my older, intellectually disabled sister shouted out from a window, “Hey, put a lead on the dog”. She could always push my buttons, and I always take the bait. I said to her, “Cathy, you know I don’t have a dog.” But why should she know that? Even in the dream, I couldn’t bring myself to remind her she was dead.
When I moved in, I had two friends over for lunch. It was Greek national day and George is Greek, so I made lamb. As he sat outside in the garden smoking, he suggested I use the metal trellis for green beans. I said nothing, because it seemed too involved to explain there is a possum or a rat that eats plants in my garden as I sleep. It is selective. Certain flowers, sage, the tiny green marbles of lemons, but not rosemary. I’ve planted three rosemary plants, but they must need more sun. They forget to grow.
I can see the Southern Cross and the Pointers when I stand on the wooden deck that is the majority of my garden at night. They are lower in the sky in winter than in summer – which is the opposite of what I might have expected. If you draw a line down the longest part of the cross, and another line perpendicular to the Pointers, the arrowhead where these lines intersect points south. Except, I can never make that work. My phone has a compass that tells me where south is, but I can never make the arrowhead drawn in my mind between the stars align with south on my phone.
Instead of string beans, I planted climbing flowers. The image in my head was of the two plants weaving and spreading out across the mesh and then of their white flowers and green leaves mingling. A patchwork of green leaves and white flowers across the wooden fence. But both raced up the wire and over the fence, only to hang into the kindergarten behind my apartment. I am reminded of my ignorance of plants and their obvious in hindsight ways every time I step into my garden.
I’m taking September and half of October off. I’m hoping to start writing a book. The question it is to skirt around is the way we think we know things, but never quite do, despite our certainty. The curious facts of Nietzsche, Marx and Pascal on atheism, Shakespeare's homosexuality, why science and commonsense are enemies. I don’t expect to ever finish the book, although I’ve made a start at planning what I want to say, the topics I want to cover - if cover is the right word. Even before I start, I wonder what will stand in the way of my finishing it.
I can’t think of a golden thread that binds me to others, alive or dead. It is a metaphor that would never have come to me, even when it came to you as a child. But in reading your book, I couldn’t help thinking of how much time you spend alone and how much time I spend alone and in the strange connection those forms of disconnection make between us.
May 2, 2026
‘When I write, I use my body. I use all the sensory details of seeing, of listening, of smelling, of tasting, of experiencing tenderness—warmth—cold—pain—my heart racing and my body needing food and water—a mortal being with blood coursing through—As if I am sending out an electric current. And when I sense this current being transmitted to the reader, I am astonished and moved. In these moments I experience again the thread of language that connects us, how my questions are relating with readers through that electric, living thing.’
Absolutely fucking brilliant, to say the least . I knew I was going to 'love' this even before I read it, but reading it just confirms it for me and more. rtc later .
‘Back in my mid-twenties, I had written these lines on the first page of every new diary:
Can the present help the past?
Can the living save the dead?
As I continued reading, it became clear that these were impossible questions. Through this sustained encounter with the bleakest aspects of humanity, I felt the remnants of my long-fractured belief in humanity shatter entirely. And that my two questions had to be reversed.
Can the past help the present?
Can the dead save the living?
Later, as I was writing what would become Human Acts, I sensed at certain moments that the past was indeed helping the present, and that the dead were saving the living. I would revisit the cemetery from time to time, and somehow the weather would always be clear. I would close my eyes, and the sun’s orange rays would suffuse my lids. I felt it as life’s own light. I felt the light and air envelop me in indescribable warmth. To negotiate an impossible way through the empty space between these two precipices of human horrors and human dignity, I needed the assistance of the dead.’
April 3, 2026
Light and Thread - Han Kang
"مع ابتعادي عنها، كتبي ستحيا وحدها، تسافر حيثُ تأخذها الأقدار. "
"لم يكد الربيع يحلّ، وها نحن ذا، نتجه بالفعل نحو الصيف."
يضم هذا العمل القصير الذي صدر مؤخرًا لهان كانغ؛ صورة عامة لكل كتبها وتاريخ وظروف كتابتها، ويوميات وقصائد ومقالات وصورًا فوتوغرافية.
عمل قصير ووجدته يشبه الكتاب الأبيض قليلًا.
"مع ابتعادي عنها، كتبي ستحيا وحدها، تسافر حيثُ تأخذها الأقدار. "
"لم يكد الربيع يحلّ، وها نحن ذا، نتجه بالفعل نحو الصيف."
يضم هذا العمل القصير الذي صدر مؤخرًا لهان كانغ؛ صورة عامة لكل كتبها وتاريخ وظروف كتابتها، ويوميات وقصائد ومقالات وصورًا فوتوغرافية.
عمل قصير ووجدته يشبه الكتاب الأبيض قليلًا.
April 2, 2025
Leggere e scrivere letteratura vuol dire opporsi a ogni atto che distrugga la vita.
Saranno anche 20 pagine, ma come sempre Han Kang riesce a condensare tutto ciò che era necessario dire sul senso dell'atto scrittorio.
Saranno anche 20 pagine, ma come sempre Han Kang riesce a condensare tutto ciò che era necessario dire sul senso dell'atto scrittorio.
July 8, 2026
Light and Thread was another intriguing work by acclaimed Korean author and Nobel Laureate Han Kang. Of all her books that I've read so far, this was sadly the one that I connected with the least. Although it did still make an impression on me. The first part of the book triggered me to reflect deeply about my own writing journey and purpose as a writer.
A key reason why Light and Thread did not linger with me has to do with the fact that it is less poetic and more mundane in its focus. The book starts out with her reflecting about her writing journey up until she won the Nobel Prize in Literature. In particular she delves into the big questions she has struggled with in her writing, which as an author I found quite inspiring. However, later on in the book she mysteriously shifts focus from writing to the nurturing of the plants in the garden of her house (which she incidentally purchased after winning the Nobel). The prose is this latter part of the book is less flowery and finessed than in her other works such as The White Book and Greek Lesson's. Somehow this didn't quite resonate with me. It seems as if her thoughts were meandering aimlessly with no particular destination in mind.
Although I do not regret reading Light and Thread, I am unsure if I would recommend this one as a must read from Han Kang. However, at the same time as an author this book did impact me. I would even venture to say that Han Kang has been an influence on my writing.
A key reason why Light and Thread did not linger with me has to do with the fact that it is less poetic and more mundane in its focus. The book starts out with her reflecting about her writing journey up until she won the Nobel Prize in Literature. In particular she delves into the big questions she has struggled with in her writing, which as an author I found quite inspiring. However, later on in the book she mysteriously shifts focus from writing to the nurturing of the plants in the garden of her house (which she incidentally purchased after winning the Nobel). The prose is this latter part of the book is less flowery and finessed than in her other works such as The White Book and Greek Lesson's. Somehow this didn't quite resonate with me. It seems as if her thoughts were meandering aimlessly with no particular destination in mind.
Although I do not regret reading Light and Thread, I am unsure if I would recommend this one as a must read from Han Kang. However, at the same time as an author this book did impact me. I would even venture to say that Han Kang has been an influence on my writing.
April 1, 2025
Ho pianto.
May 28, 2026
4 ⭐
Change my mind ma secondo me il libro migliore per approcciarsi alla scrittura di Han Kang è proprio questo!
In poche pagine ci fornisce chiaramente la sua visione della scrittura e anche una sorta di dichiarazione di intenti dei suoi romanzi!
(Inutile dire che voglio recuperare tutti i suoi libri!)
Change my mind ma secondo me il libro migliore per approcciarsi alla scrittura di Han Kang è proprio questo!
In poche pagine ci fornisce chiaramente la sua visione della scrittura e anche una sorta di dichiarazione di intenti dei suoi romanzi!
(Inutile dire che voglio recuperare tutti i suoi libri!)
August 13, 2026
Han Kang, vincitrice del Nobel per la Letteratura nel 2024, qui raccoglie il discorso pronunciato per l'accettazione del Nobel. L'edizione Adelphi è piccolissima: appena 39 pagine.
Eppure non lo considererei affatto un libriccino da leggere tanto per.
Il centro del discorso è una cosa che mi riguarda molto: che cosa può fare la letteratura quando attraversa il dolore?
Han Kang parla della scrittura come di un filo che mette in comunicazione esseri viventi, interiorità, sofferenze e punti di vista diversi. E soprattutto insiste sull'idea che scrivere e leggere significhi opporsi alla distruzione della vita.
Non cerco semplicemente una bella storia. Mi interessa quando un libro entra nella ferita, la guarda, la trasforma in qualcosa che può essere raccontato. Quando la scrittura non è decorazione ma diventa una specie di organismo vivo.
C'è poi una frase del discorso che trovo particolarmente adatta a me: Han Kang racconta che, quando lavora a un romanzo, porta con sé delle domande, le abita, e quando arriva alla fine non è più la stessa persona che era all'inizio.
E questa cosa mi fa pensare proprio alle mie letture: spesso non mi interessa tanto che cosa racconta un libro, quanto che cosa mi fa diventare mentre lo leggo.
Un incontro con la Han Kang scrittrice, con il suo rapporto con le parole, con la memoria, con la sofferenza e con il motivo per cui continua a scrivere.
Tra l'altro, il libro nasce dal discorso Nobel e ripercorre anche la sua formazione di scrittrice, fino ai primi tentativi poetici dell'infanzia.
Ho trovato in queste poche pagine qualcosa da sottolineare, fotografare e dire: "questa frase mi ha fatto male".
Ho letto finora soltanto La vegetariana e questo romanzo. Ma dopo queste letture sento di voler approfondire davvero la sua opera.
Voglio tornare ai suoi romanzi con un occhio diverso.
Sapendo che dietro quelle pagine c'è una donna che si è interrogata sulla violenza, sulla memoria, sul corpo, sulla sofferenza, sulla capacità di amare e soprattutto su cosa significhi rimanere umani quando tutto intorno sembra spingerci nella direzione opposta.
Forse leggere Han Kang da questo momento in poi sarà un po' come tornare indietro nelle sue pagine con una consapevolezza nuova.
Non leggerò più soltanto ciò che ha scritto.
Cercherò anche di ascoltare ciò che stava cercando di dire mentre lo scriveva.
E credo che questa sia soltanto l'inizio della mia lettura di Han Kang.
Eppure non lo considererei affatto un libriccino da leggere tanto per.
Il centro del discorso è una cosa che mi riguarda molto: che cosa può fare la letteratura quando attraversa il dolore?
Han Kang parla della scrittura come di un filo che mette in comunicazione esseri viventi, interiorità, sofferenze e punti di vista diversi. E soprattutto insiste sull'idea che scrivere e leggere significhi opporsi alla distruzione della vita.
Non cerco semplicemente una bella storia. Mi interessa quando un libro entra nella ferita, la guarda, la trasforma in qualcosa che può essere raccontato. Quando la scrittura non è decorazione ma diventa una specie di organismo vivo.
C'è poi una frase del discorso che trovo particolarmente adatta a me: Han Kang racconta che, quando lavora a un romanzo, porta con sé delle domande, le abita, e quando arriva alla fine non è più la stessa persona che era all'inizio.
E questa cosa mi fa pensare proprio alle mie letture: spesso non mi interessa tanto che cosa racconta un libro, quanto che cosa mi fa diventare mentre lo leggo.
Un incontro con la Han Kang scrittrice, con il suo rapporto con le parole, con la memoria, con la sofferenza e con il motivo per cui continua a scrivere.
Tra l'altro, il libro nasce dal discorso Nobel e ripercorre anche la sua formazione di scrittrice, fino ai primi tentativi poetici dell'infanzia.
Ho trovato in queste poche pagine qualcosa da sottolineare, fotografare e dire: "questa frase mi ha fatto male".
Ho letto finora soltanto La vegetariana e questo romanzo. Ma dopo queste letture sento di voler approfondire davvero la sua opera.
Voglio tornare ai suoi romanzi con un occhio diverso.
Sapendo che dietro quelle pagine c'è una donna che si è interrogata sulla violenza, sulla memoria, sul corpo, sulla sofferenza, sulla capacità di amare e soprattutto su cosa significhi rimanere umani quando tutto intorno sembra spingerci nella direzione opposta.
Forse leggere Han Kang da questo momento in poi sarà un po' come tornare indietro nelle sue pagine con una consapevolezza nuova.
Non leggerò più soltanto ciò che ha scritto.
Cercherò anche di ascoltare ciò che stava cercando di dire mentre lo scriveva.
E credo che questa sia soltanto l'inizio della mia lettura di Han Kang.
May 29, 2025
Può il presente aiutare il passato?
Possono i vivi salvare i morti?
Può il passato aiutare il presente?
Possono i morti salvare i vivi?
Possono i vivi salvare i morti?
Può il passato aiutare il presente?
Possono i morti salvare i vivi?
April 13, 2026
The title piece of Light and Thread is the Nobel Lecture 빛과 실 delivered by 한강 in December 2024, as translated by e. yaewon and Paige Aniyah Morris, a lecture which closed:
언어가 우리를 잇는 실이라는 것을, 생명의 빛과 전류가 흐르는 그 실에 나의 질문들이 접속하고 있다는 사실을 실감하는 순간에. 그 실에 연결되어주었고, 연결되어줄 모든 분들에게 마음 깊은 감사의 인사를 드린다.
In these moments I experience again the thread of language that connects us, how my questions are relating with readers through that electric, living thing. I would like to express my deepest gratitude to all those who have connected with me through that thread, as well as to all those who may come to do so.
The lecture itself, as a video, and with text of the Korean original as well as text/subtitles in English and in Swedish was already available on the Nobel Prize website, but this edition provides a welcome commemorative copy for one's shelves, along with some assorted other pieces translated by Maya West.
This is perhaps one for Han Kang completists, but the additional pieces include:
- After Publication, a poetic essay on her reflections after completing 작별하지 않는다 (We Do Not Part), which covers similar ground to the Nobel speech
- Small Teacup, a note accompanying the donation of teacup which she used while writing the book to the Nobel museum
- a series of short poems
- North Facing Garden, a piece on the small garden she established in 2018 in the first house she fully owned in her own name (the small size and north-facing nature of which meant that the author placed mirrors around the garden, to reflect sunlight on to the plants, linking to the theme of light in the book)
- Garden Diary, a series of diary entries covering the same period
- and a photocopy of the poem she wrote as an eight year old, whose rediscovery in her papers began her Nobel lecture
사랑이란 어디 있을까?
팔딱팔딱 뛰는 나의 가슴 속에 있지.
사랑이란 무얼까?
우리의 가슴과 가슴 사이를 연결해주는 (아름다운) 금실이지.
Where is love?
It is inside my thump-thumping beating chest.
What is love?
It is the (beautiful) gold thread connecting between our hearts.
[아름다운 i.e. beautiful in brackets as that word is included in the photo but not the author's speech]
A wonderful addition to my shelves - although The White Book would be a better starting point for the author's more lyrical work.
언어가 우리를 잇는 실이라는 것을, 생명의 빛과 전류가 흐르는 그 실에 나의 질문들이 접속하고 있다는 사실을 실감하는 순간에. 그 실에 연결되어주었고, 연결되어줄 모든 분들에게 마음 깊은 감사의 인사를 드린다.
In these moments I experience again the thread of language that connects us, how my questions are relating with readers through that electric, living thing. I would like to express my deepest gratitude to all those who have connected with me through that thread, as well as to all those who may come to do so.
The lecture itself, as a video, and with text of the Korean original as well as text/subtitles in English and in Swedish was already available on the Nobel Prize website, but this edition provides a welcome commemorative copy for one's shelves, along with some assorted other pieces translated by Maya West.
This is perhaps one for Han Kang completists, but the additional pieces include:
- After Publication, a poetic essay on her reflections after completing 작별하지 않는다 (We Do Not Part), which covers similar ground to the Nobel speech
- Small Teacup, a note accompanying the donation of teacup which she used while writing the book to the Nobel museum
- a series of short poems
- North Facing Garden, a piece on the small garden she established in 2018 in the first house she fully owned in her own name (the small size and north-facing nature of which meant that the author placed mirrors around the garden, to reflect sunlight on to the plants, linking to the theme of light in the book)
- Garden Diary, a series of diary entries covering the same period
- and a photocopy of the poem she wrote as an eight year old, whose rediscovery in her papers began her Nobel lecture
사랑이란 어디 있을까?
팔딱팔딱 뛰는 나의 가슴 속에 있지.
사랑이란 무얼까?
우리의 가슴과 가슴 사이를 연결해주는 (아름다운) 금실이지.
Where is love?
It is inside my thump-thumping beating chest.
What is love?
It is the (beautiful) gold thread connecting between our hearts.
[아름다운 i.e. beautiful in brackets as that word is included in the photo but not the author's speech]
A wonderful addition to my shelves - although The White Book would be a better starting point for the author's more lyrical work.
April 5, 2025
Ho sottolineato praticamente tutte le pagine
April 28, 2025
39 pagine e un pugno allo stomaco gigantesco.
percepitemi così.
percepitemi così.
April 5, 2025
Opporsi alla violenza e amare. Basta davvero così poco. Eppure continuiamo a rivivere orrori e massacri. Forse gli interrogativi evolvono, ma la noce resta sempre la stessa, l'amore per la vita.
April 14, 2026
I really loved the first half. The garden diary was nice, but maybe not as poignant as the rest.
May 1, 2025
Questo libriccino - che riporta i due discorsi del ritiro del Nobel - è l'esempio perfetto di come si possa dire tutto con poco. Basta solo scegliere le parole giuste.
March 26, 2026
Major thanks to NetGalley and Hogarth for providing an ARC of this book in exchange for my honest thoughts:
*3.5 rounded up
For the longest time, I’ve been waiting for English audiences to arrive at Kang’s poetry. And though this isn’t her strongest work, there’s a lot to like here for fans.
Here, she looks at her own writing, its power and the power she places in her own writing. The process.
Process also appears again in the form of a gardening journal where she talks about the plants that flourish and surround her.
My initial impressions were correct: she’s a woman who is frail, careful in her approach to the world and humanity as she feels every ache of suffering of the human condition, all reasons why I love her work so much. They’re about the marginalized few, finding time and space in crevices of pain and tragedy.
For a breakdown of her work, I have a tier list of all her currently published fiction. This is best to come to after reading one or two of her works.
*3.5 rounded up
For the longest time, I’ve been waiting for English audiences to arrive at Kang’s poetry. And though this isn’t her strongest work, there’s a lot to like here for fans.
Here, she looks at her own writing, its power and the power she places in her own writing. The process.
Process also appears again in the form of a gardening journal where she talks about the plants that flourish and surround her.
My initial impressions were correct: she’s a woman who is frail, careful in her approach to the world and humanity as she feels every ache of suffering of the human condition, all reasons why I love her work so much. They’re about the marginalized few, finding time and space in crevices of pain and tragedy.
For a breakdown of her work, I have a tier list of all her currently published fiction. This is best to come to after reading one or two of her works.
February 8, 2026
I've never read a Han Kang book before, though after she won the Pulitzer, her novels have been on my radar.
I picked this up, as it is the first non-fiction book she has written. I was expecting beautiful prose, thoughts on life, poems, which is exacty what I received.
"Over the past three years, I have gradually come to realize that this work is fundamentally transforming my very constitution. As the gentle warmth of this small place holds me close, quiet. With the rhythm of the light changing each day, each moment, each season."
Kang talks about planting, writing her past novels, a small dosage of her relationship with her mother (wish there was more).
"Could it be that love was in fact my life’s oldest and most fundamental undertone?"
While I now get her writing - flowerly, lush, small details, I just didn't see the point of this book, and I wanted to so hard.
I picked this up, as it is the first non-fiction book she has written. I was expecting beautiful prose, thoughts on life, poems, which is exacty what I received.
"Over the past three years, I have gradually come to realize that this work is fundamentally transforming my very constitution. As the gentle warmth of this small place holds me close, quiet. With the rhythm of the light changing each day, each moment, each season."
Kang talks about planting, writing her past novels, a small dosage of her relationship with her mother (wish there was more).
"Could it be that love was in fact my life’s oldest and most fundamental undertone?"
While I now get her writing - flowerly, lush, small details, I just didn't see the point of this book, and I wanted to so hard.
April 10, 2026
I really enjoyed this book! I’ve read We Do Not Part. I will return to this author soon to read her other works.
August 15, 2026
This is a collection of Han Kang's essays and poems examining this idea of a thread that connects us to the people and places around us in the world. In my opinion, to really appreciate this one, you need to not only have previously read but also been a lover of Kang's works as it's not really a standalone read.
Instead, it's a collection of musings on her writing process, the books themselves, and her life in-between. She doesn't go into the details of her personal life, but rather the way that each of her novels helped explore things for her personally. This was what I loved most about this collection, but I am definitely biased because I would truly read Kang's grocery list if given the chance! One thing that really stood out to me though was her discussion on the mismatched expectations in what she thought she was writing versus how her work was perceived by readers. She doesn't question her readers but instead used this as a source of inner reflection on her stories and ways of storytelling that I found to be thoughtful. Additionally, there were some beautiful passages especially in regards to her examination of violence and humanity. I felt like Kang discussed a lot of topics relevant to the times we are currently living in, which might be why I found it so cathartic to read this. Kang manages to voice a lot of feelings I have also had in the last few years, but she does so without surrounding the reader in darkness. Rather, she shines a light on the beauties in life we often underestimate. The ending to this collection, while not exactly my favorite, leaned into exploring life's small wonders. There was such an intentionality in how the ending was crafted and there is definitely an arc crafted here to guide readers through Kang's own search for peace.
I understand that this is not going to be everybody's jam and that it's a rather niche read just getting a peek into the mind of one of the most prolific writers of our time. Yet, for me it was such a lovely read!
Thank you to the publisher, Hogarth, for an e-ARC via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and opinions shared in this review are my own!
Instead, it's a collection of musings on her writing process, the books themselves, and her life in-between. She doesn't go into the details of her personal life, but rather the way that each of her novels helped explore things for her personally. This was what I loved most about this collection, but I am definitely biased because I would truly read Kang's grocery list if given the chance! One thing that really stood out to me though was her discussion on the mismatched expectations in what she thought she was writing versus how her work was perceived by readers. She doesn't question her readers but instead used this as a source of inner reflection on her stories and ways of storytelling that I found to be thoughtful. Additionally, there were some beautiful passages especially in regards to her examination of violence and humanity. I felt like Kang discussed a lot of topics relevant to the times we are currently living in, which might be why I found it so cathartic to read this. Kang manages to voice a lot of feelings I have also had in the last few years, but she does so without surrounding the reader in darkness. Rather, she shines a light on the beauties in life we often underestimate. The ending to this collection, while not exactly my favorite, leaned into exploring life's small wonders. There was such an intentionality in how the ending was crafted and there is definitely an arc crafted here to guide readers through Kang's own search for peace.
I understand that this is not going to be everybody's jam and that it's a rather niche read just getting a peek into the mind of one of the most prolific writers of our time. Yet, for me it was such a lovely read!
Thank you to the publisher, Hogarth, for an e-ARC via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and opinions shared in this review are my own!
June 28, 2026
sevdiğiniz ünlülerle asla tanışmayın diye bir söz vardır, maalesef birçok yazar için de geçerli bana kalırsa. fakat han kang beni şaşırttı. kitaba başlarken biraz mesafeliydim, acaba yazma süreci nasıl, kendinden bahsederken üstenci bir tavır mı sergileyecek ya da tamamen uzaklaştıracak bir şeyler mi diyecek diye korka korka kitabı elime aldım fakat karşımda çok samimi (kafa dengi demeliyim belki) bir metin buldum.
metin, yazma süreciyle başlıyor. neyden rahatsız olduğunu ve kaçınılmaz olarak yazmaya başladığını anlıyoruz (ölüler yaşayanlara yardım edebilir mi gibi felsefi bir soruyla uzun zaman da aklımda kalacak) kitaplarında yer yer bana fazla gerçekçi ve detaylı gelen detayların da sebebini anlamış oldum bu metin sayesinde, zira yazarken doğru şekilde ifade etmek için tekrar tekrar kendini o şartlara sokuyormuş. inanılmaz.
son kısımda aldığı ev ve bahçesiyle ilgilenmesini okumak neden bilmiyorum kalbimi titretti. bahçeyle uğraşmak kesinlikle çok şifalı ve büyülü bir şey. bahçesine gösterdiği ilgi, bahçe işlerini bilmemesine rağmen bir şeyler olsun diye çabalaması ve süreç içinde anlayan birine dönüşmesi... tüm bunlar bir yana bahçe-ev ilişkisi üzerinden kendine bir alan yaratması bende karşılık buldu. kitabın da en çok bu kısmı hoşuma gitti.
metin, yazma süreciyle başlıyor. neyden rahatsız olduğunu ve kaçınılmaz olarak yazmaya başladığını anlıyoruz (ölüler yaşayanlara yardım edebilir mi gibi felsefi bir soruyla uzun zaman da aklımda kalacak) kitaplarında yer yer bana fazla gerçekçi ve detaylı gelen detayların da sebebini anlamış oldum bu metin sayesinde, zira yazarken doğru şekilde ifade etmek için tekrar tekrar kendini o şartlara sokuyormuş. inanılmaz.
son kısımda aldığı ev ve bahçesiyle ilgilenmesini okumak neden bilmiyorum kalbimi titretti. bahçeyle uğraşmak kesinlikle çok şifalı ve büyülü bir şey. bahçesine gösterdiği ilgi, bahçe işlerini bilmemesine rağmen bir şeyler olsun diye çabalaması ve süreç içinde anlayan birine dönüşmesi... tüm bunlar bir yana bahçe-ev ilişkisi üzerinden kendine bir alan yaratması bende karşılık buldu. kitabın da en çok bu kısmı hoşuma gitti.
April 1, 2025
Saranno neanche 20 pagine effettive, eppure Han Kang è riuscita a emozionarmi ripercorrendo i momenti di stesura delle sue opere, gli interrogativi che l’hanno spinta a scriverle e il filo dorato che le unisce.
May 24, 2025
Been crying for half an hour.
Please, read it.
Please, read it.
March 24, 2026
“Annyeong,” Han Kang,
“we who have neither met nor parted”
Kang’s Light and Thread contains prose writing, poetry, and journal entries, respectively. The opening section reads like a supplementary article that follows a book’s publication, distilling her frame of mind as she creates her novels, including The Vegetarian, Ink and Blood, and Greek Lessons. Walking through each project, she reveals the heavy existential questions that burdened her while writing; in her research and narrative, she probes for a satisfactory response to end her questions. In the chasm between violence and light, Kang postulates that the thread connecting human beings—a species whose capacity to inflict profound horror confounds her—to one another is love, a notion she journaled about at the age of eight. Still, in 2012, the author had yet to produce a novel focused on life as such. She answers in 2014 through Human Acts, and in 2021, We Do Not Part would be Kang’s meditation on love: Πού και τι είναι η αγάπη?
Following her poems, Kang tracks her gardening activity in her north-facing house. She sets up mirrors in her front yard to reflect the sunlight so that her plants can grow, and she assiduously adjusts the mirrors’ angles throughout the day to redirect the light. In the midst of her diary entries, with extraordinary attention to light and love in her novel and in her garden, she completes We Do Not Part.
My thanks to Hogarth and NetGalley for an ARC.
“we who have neither met nor parted”
Kang’s Light and Thread contains prose writing, poetry, and journal entries, respectively. The opening section reads like a supplementary article that follows a book’s publication, distilling her frame of mind as she creates her novels, including The Vegetarian, Ink and Blood, and Greek Lessons. Walking through each project, she reveals the heavy existential questions that burdened her while writing; in her research and narrative, she probes for a satisfactory response to end her questions. In the chasm between violence and light, Kang postulates that the thread connecting human beings—a species whose capacity to inflict profound horror confounds her—to one another is love, a notion she journaled about at the age of eight. Still, in 2012, the author had yet to produce a novel focused on life as such. She answers in 2014 through Human Acts, and in 2021, We Do Not Part would be Kang’s meditation on love: Πού και τι είναι η αγάπη?
Following her poems, Kang tracks her gardening activity in her north-facing house. She sets up mirrors in her front yard to reflect the sunlight so that her plants can grow, and she assiduously adjusts the mirrors’ angles throughout the day to redirect the light. In the midst of her diary entries, with extraordinary attention to light and love in her novel and in her garden, she completes We Do Not Part.
My thanks to Hogarth and NetGalley for an ARC.
September 8, 2026
Nobel Prize lecture. Essays. Poetry. Gardening. Apparently my second date with Han Kang involved looking at her plants and talking about her work. Better than the first date. We’ll see each other again.
October 5, 2025
Cortito pero intenso. De entre todo lo que motiva a Kang para escribir, me quedo con la última idea: escribir (y leer) es un hilo directo al corazón ajeno, un hilo dorado que insiste en la necesidad de imaginar el punto de vista de otros, en la empatía. Dan ganas de ponerse a ello. O por lo menos, de leerla más.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 623 reviews